


The Most Important Job

by just_another_outcast



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Appendicitis, Dani and JT make brief appearances, Gen, Good Parent Gil Arroyo, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I feel like I spelled that wrong, Malcolm Bright Whump, Papa Gil, Sickfic, Vomiting, oh well, well its a fluffy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast
Summary: Taking care of his kid is just as much Gil's job as being a police lieutenant, so when Malcolm falls seriously ill, Gil does whatever he can to help him feel better.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 13
Kudos: 107





	The Most Important Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rolypoly_panda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/gifts).



> This is for Linc, who is always willing to add my crazy requests to a ever-growing list of WIPs, so I thought I should return the favor. I hope you love it bb <3 I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!!!

Gil had known something was up from the moment he laid eyes on the kid at the crime scene, but Malcolm was an adult and could - theoretically - make his own decisions. As long as whatever the kid had wasn't contagious, then Gil had no real authority to send him home, at least not at first. Malcolm would never subject anyone to something more than the common cold if he thought whatever he had was contagious, and his symptoms weren't presenting like the common cold anyway. Gil noticed the kid seemed uncomfortable, holding his stomach and side as if he were in pain, and he could feel the heat radiating off him when he stood next to him. That spoke to a fever. But when Gil asked if Malcolm was feeling alright, he characteristically said he was fine and changed the topic.

Things did not get better throughout the day, and the rest of the team noticed that something was up, too. Malcolm didn't joke with Edrisa, he didn't make his daily guess of JT's real name, and he barely spoke a word to Dani.

"He's not looking so good," Dani whispered to him as Malcolm was working on his profile. JT was staying with the kid, that protective streak he had shining through, even though he didn't want anyone to know it existed. Gil was thankful for it.

"I know, I'm hoping I can convince him to go home once he's finished his profile," Gil replied. He and Dani glanced back into the conference room, where JT was standing next to Malcolm, who was sitting at the table, pouring over the files. They saw him rest a hand on the kid's back and lean over him a bit, clearly asking if he was okay. Gil and Dani shared a look, silently agreeing not to mention it.

Painstakingly, Malcolm completed his profile, and gave it to them from his place sitting down, not standing and moving animatedly around the room, as he usually did. His profile gave them a lead, which Dani and JT volunteered to track down. For what seemed like the first time, Malcolm did not jump up and go with them. He merely nodded, and stayed where he was. He even hunched over a little bit more. Dani and JT looked at each other, then again to Malcolm, then up to Gil, who nodded at them, then waved them away. Once they left, Gil moved and knelt in front of his boy.

"What's goin' on, kid?" he gently asked. Slowly, Malcolm lifted his head up from where it was hanging against his chest, and Gil was struck by how much pain he saw in those blue eyes. "Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

"No," Malcolm quickly replied, shaking his head. "It's not that bad, I probably just ate something I shouldn't've."

"You can't get food poisoning if you don't eat anything in the first place," Gil joked, glad to see that Malcolm could still crack a smile. "Let me at least take you home," he offered. The fact that Malcolm didn't even offer a token of resistance proved how terrible he was actually feeling. That only made Gil even more concerned, but he stayed quiet on it, and slowly ushered the kid out to the newly renovated LeMans. Malcolm was moving very slowly, any sudden movement seeming to cause him significant pain. Everyone who knew Malcolm knew that the kid had an unreasonably high pain tolerance, so for him to visibly wince proved just how much pain he was actually in.

The kid remained uncharacteristically quiet while Gil drove him back to his loft, concerning Gil even more. The last straw was when the kid let out an actual whimper when he opened the door and got out of the car. There was no way that Gil was leaving him alone like that.

"Okay, kid, I'm staying. I can't leave you alone when you're like this," he said, moving the LeMans into park and quickly getting out. For a moment, it looked like Malcolm was actually going to protest, but then the kid just nodded, and waited for Gil to get to his side before he began to move towards the building.

The stairs were slow going, and the moment he was able to, Malcolm collapsed onto his bed, curling into a ball. He didn't even bother to take his shoes off or say hello to Sunshine, whose chirps sounded off pitch, almost as if she were nervous or could tell that something was wrong.

"You gotta tell me what's goin' on with you," Gil pleaded, sitting on the side of the bed, right next to his kid. "When did this start?"

"Yesterday, I think," the kid muttered. "Something was off, but it wasn't this bad. It's been getting worse all day."

"You don't say," Gil muttered right back, but he began gently rubbing the kid's back. "Are you sure I don't need to take you in?" he asked. If it got much worse, it wouldn't be Malcolm's choice anymore. Gil would take him in regardless. He couldn't bare to see his kid in such pain.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Malcolm replied, though he sounded anything but. "Stomach bugs usually go away on their own."

Gil wasn't so sure, but he wasn't going to press it. If he was going to argue with the kid while he was sick, it was going to be when it actually mattered. So, for the time being, Gil would let him stay home. He began to untie the kid's shoes, and gently took them off, setting them neatly on the floor at the foot of the bed. He pulled the kid's socks off too.

"Do you wanna get your coat off, at least?" he asked. "I know you're burning up." Malcolm just looked up at him and shrugged. "Let me at least take your temperature." The kid nodded, so Gil got up and went hunting for the first aid kit. Even if Malcolm almost never used it, even when he should, Gil made sure that he had it. Generally, when he was in such a place to truly need it, Gil was with him anyway. As usual, the kit was in its place underneath the sink in the bathroom. Gil removed the thermometer and brought it back over to the kid. Less than a minute later, the thermometer confirmed for Gil, in big bold numbers, that Malcolm did in fact have a fever, and one of 100.4 degrees in fact. Technically that was still low grade, but Gil would definitely be watching it.

"Can you feed Sunshine?" Malcolm asked, still curled up in the same place on the bed.

"Of course, kid," Gil replied. He ran his fingers through the kid's hair, brushing the bangs off his forehead, before he went over to the bird. Sunshine chirped at him. "He'll be okay," Gil whispered to her. "I'm gonna take care of him, don't worry," he said with a smile.

After feeding her and putting everything away, Gil went to the kitchen to retrieved a glass from the cupboard, then filled it up from the ice cold water dispenser inside the freezer. He brought it over to Malcolm and set it on the bedside table.

"You really outta drink this, and get out of your suit," he said, crouching next to the bed in order to be at eye level with the kid. Malcolm groaned, but this time it seemed to be more out of annoyance than pain. Slowly, so very slowly, he uncurled himself and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Want me to help?" Gil offered, but Malcolm shook his head. He eased his arms out of the sleeves of his suit jacket, then started to loosen his tie. Gil got up and grabbed a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt for the kid from one of the drawers, and brought it back over.

"I should shower," Malcolm muttered. "I feel so gross." Gil wasn't surprised. Without the jacket covering him, Gil could see that the kid had sweat through his dress shirt, likely from the fever.

"Think you can manage it?" Gil asked. With the way the kid was moving, he wasn't so sure that was safe.

"I at least need to wipe down, or something," Malcolm replied as he undid each of the buttons and slid out of his shirt. When he was done, he hung his head low, as if the act of removing his jacket, tie, and shirt had taken monumental effort. Maybe it had. The kid was sweating something fierce.

"Can you drink the water first?"

Malcolm stared at the glass, like that one glass held all of life's secrets. "I don't know," he muttered. "I couldn't keep anything down this morning."

"You were nauseous this morning? When were you planning on telling me that?" he asked incredulously, although he couldn't bring himself to be more than mildly annoyed when the kid was looking so pathetic. Malcolm just shrugged, and Gil sighed. "If you're planning on fighting whatever this is without going in, then you're gonna need to stay hydrated." Malcolm, being smart enough to know that Gil was right, reached out to grab the glass, his hand shaking. Gil's dad instincts went into overdrive, ready to leap into action and grab the glass should the kid drop it. Luckily, that didn't happen, and Malcolm managed to take three whole sips of the water before he groaned and clutched his stomach with one hand, the other quickly placing the glass back on the bedside table, sloshing a little bit of water out of the glass. "You good?"

Instead of answering, Malcolm gagged, then ran to the bathroom. Gil's heart broke as he heard the kid vomit. He was going to give him a moment of privacy, but the seconds dragged on and on and the retching continued. Gil couldn't leave him alone like that. He walked over to the bathroom to see his kid kneeling in front of the porcelain, his arms shaking as he tried to hold himself up as he continued to retch.

"Oh, kid," he muttered, going in to help in any way he could. Malcolm retched once more, then let out a heartbreaking cry of pain as he collapsed against the wall next to the porcelain. His arms immediately went back to wrapping around his torso in a weak protective gesture, and tears streamed down his face. Gil fell to his knees next to the kid as tears gathered in his own eyes at seeing his kid in such pain.

"It hurts so much," Malcolm admitted. He sat there, curled in on himself, and Gil made up his mind. He was going to have to take the kid to the emergency room. That wasn't a question anymore. Malcolm was in too much pain for any normal stomach bug.

Carefully, Gil pulled the kid close. Malcolm quickly fell limp against him as he tried to take in measured breaths against the pain. Crying was probably making the it even worse. He held the kid close for several minutes, whispering little calming things and running his fingers through the kid's hair.

"Please make it stop," Malcolm whispered, maybe to Gil, maybe to God, maybe to no one, but Gil lost the battle against his own tears when those broken words reached his ears. The kid let out a louder cry of pain and clutched Gil even harder.

"I know it hurts, kid, I'm gonna take you to the emergency room, alright?" Gil said. He felt Malcolm nod against him. "Do you think you can walk, or do you want me to carry you?" Malcolm was still for a moment, then slowly started to arrange his legs underneath him.

"Can you help me stand?" Malcolm asked, his voice so small and scared.

"Of course, kid. I'll do whatever you need me to."

Malcolm got his legs steady and a hand firmly planted next to them, while Gil put an arm under the kid's arms. On the count of three, Gil helped Malcolm to stand. He almost gave up and scooped the kid up into his arms when Malcolm cried out again, but resisted. If Malcolm thought he could do it himself, then Gil was going to let him. If that was the little bit of agency that Malcolm could have, then Gil absolutely needed to give it to him.

It was only once they were out of the bathroom that Gil remembered that Malcolm needed clothes. The kid was shirtless, wearing only his dress pants.

"Let me help you change," Gil said, leading Malcolm back to the bed. If nothing else, at least the pain meant that Malcolm was too distracted to be embarrassed by Gil helping him change.

A few painful minutes later, Malcolm was in sweatpants and a tee shirt and sneakers. A few more painful minutes after that, Gil had Malcolm situated in the LeMans. Gil may have broken some traffic laws to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, but for his kid, Gil would break any law there was. He would do anything to stop his pain.

Luckily, the emergency room wasn't as crazy as it was on a Friday night. Mondays were generally much slower, to which Gil was very thankful. He helped Malcolm down into a seat, heart breaking once again as the kid immediately curled in on himself and squeezed his eyes shut. Gil jogged up to the desk.

"My kid is really sick," he said. "Something's wrong with his stomach, or something. I don't know if I've ever seen him in this much pain before. Something is really, really wrong. I know my kid and I know this can't be any normal stomach bug, I just-"

"It's alright," the receptionist interrupted. "We'll get someone out to see him as quickly as possible," she assured him. She handed over some paperwork, which Gil immediately took back over to Malcolm.

"Someone will be out to see you as soon as possible, okay?" he said, rubbing the kid's back. Malcolm just nodded, leaning closer to Gil.

True to her word, a doctor came over to collect Malcolm only a few minutes later. The woman let Gil come back with them, and only a minute after that, they were situated in an exam room. She was trying to get Malcolm to lie flat on his back, but the kid couldn't do it.

"I can't," he admitted, tears of both pain and frustration leaking out. "It hurts so much, I can't."

"That's alright," the doctor assured him. "I have an idea of what we're dealing with here, but what I'm about to do is probably going to hurt a lot, so you might want your dad right here," she said. Gil immediately rushed up to his kid, not bothering to say anything about the doctor's assumption. Malcolm grabbed onto his hand and held on tight, almost to the point where it hurt. "If I'm on the right track, then this will hurt, but I have to do this, okay?" Malcolm nodded, eyes already squeezed shut. The doctor put a hand on his side, then began to press down.

The reaction was immediate and heartwrenching. Malcolm screamed and squeezed Gil's hand so hard it felt like the bones were grinding against each other, but Gil let him squeeze. The doctor stopped, and apologized once more, but Gil was only focusing on his crying kid.

"Seems like severe appendicitis to me, but we'll get him in for a CT scan to be sure," she said, then left.

Gil moved in front of Malcolm and crouched down to be at eye level. He held his kid's hand in one of his own, and wiped away his tears with the other.

"You're gonna be okay," he insisted. "An appendectomy is super simple, you're gonna be okay." Malcolm just nodded, closing his eyes against the tears once again. Gil stayed right there, holding his hand and running fingers through the kid's hair until the doctor came back to take him in for a CT scan.

Just as the doctor suspected, the CT scan came back showing a severe case of appendicitis. They rushed Malcolm back into surgery as quickly as possible. The poor kid's appendix had burst, meaning that without immediate medical attention, he would die. But with immediate medical attention, he was going to be just fine.

Gil was thankful to have all that paperwork, since it made the shorter surgery seem to go by even faster. Being lost in his worry for Malcolm almost made time drag on forever, but paperwork distracted him just enough to help. He figured he should call Jessica and his team to let them all know what was going on, but he could do that once they had they kid resting comfortably.

A nurse came to get him and his paperwork from the waiting room and brought him back to see Malcolm in recovery. The kid was still out, and Gil would have been lying if he said he wasn't concerned that the kid would wake up screaming from a nightmare and tear out his fresh stitches.

He sat down right next to the kid, and held his hand unhindered by the IV. The kid looked calm, not in pain. It was the first time he didn't look like he was hurting all day.

"He must have a really high pain tolerance," the doctor remarked. "With the state of his appendix, it has to have been a few days since his symptoms began." Gil just nodded. Of course the kid had been hurting a lot longer than he let on. He only admitted to Gil that he had been in true pain from the night before, but he'd likely been feeling uncomfortable for the last two days.

Malcolm's eyes fluttered, slowly opening, and immediately came to rest on Gil.

"Hey, kid," Gil greeted, beyond thankful that the kid woke up peacefully.

"Hey," Malcolm replied, his voice scratchy. The doctor administered some more pain meds into his IV, then had him wheeled into the room he would be staying in for the next several days. Gil continued to hold his hand the whole time.

The doctor gave Gil some instructions, such as how the automatic pain med thing worked and how to use it, how much Malcolm should be sleeping, and where the coffee machine was. She then left, leaving Gil and Malcolm alone. The kid was barely awake, fighting valiantly against the remaining anesthesia in his system.

"Thank you," the kid muttered, ever so slightly squeezing Gil's hand. Only tiny slivers of his blue eyes could be seen.

"What for?" Gil asked, relaxing into the chair he would be spending the night in. There was no way he was leaving the kid.

"You're always there for me. I was gonna be alone tonight, and I don't know if I would've called 9-1-1," he muttered. Malcolm's words were spoken softly, but clearly enough to send a stab of panic through Gil's heart. The kid was right. If Gil hadn't insisted on staying with him, then Malcolm would've gotten worse on his own, and maybe he would've had the strength to call for a bus, but maybe he wouldn't have. Gil was just glad that that was a question that they didn't have to answer.

"I'm always gonna there for you, kid. No matter what," he insisted. "Especially when you're hurting. You're my kid. Taking care of you is my job." Even as he spoke, Gil was adjusting the kid's blankets and tucking him in even more. Malcolm was going to fall back to sleep soon enough, and when he did, he would be nice and warm.

The kid grinned, the anesthesia lowering all of his defenses. "You're really good at your job," he said, before relaxing even further into the bed, his eyes slipping closed and his grip on Gil's hand falling away. He was asleep.

"It's the most important job in the world," Gil whispered to the sleeping boy. He loved that kid more than anything in the whole world. Soon enough, he was going to have to call the kid's mom and his team and let them know what was going on - and get an update on the case they were working, which Gil hadn't given a second thought to since leaving the precinct. But in that moment, it was only him and his kid. His kid, who for once, was sleeping soundly. Gil would stay on watch all night to make sure he stayed that way.


End file.
